Ak Surim smiled gently.
"I'm going to cut off the head of the Zhuge Clan's leader."
The gray stone walls of Wonpyeong's First Sword Hall echoed bleakly.
A cheerful voice carried words as thunderous as a bolt of lightning. A peerless master known as the Sleeping Dragon. Though exiled, he had once been the head of one of the Eight Great Clans.
As an absolute powerhouse of the martial world, his fame had echoed for a long time.
Jung Yeonshin asked without thinking.
"Did you say the Zhuge Clan's leader?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Seems like he's trying to establish a new sect, but it's quite blasphemous. Too secretive, you see. You've heard the rumors that Yeoryeong is trying to unite the Thirteen Celestial Demons, haven't you? It looks like the Zhuge Clan's leader has a foot in that mess. A major threat."
"How did you find out?"
"From the intelligence of White Spy of the Dark Current Squad. He's from an annihilated noble family and has experienced both the highs and lows of the world. Since Shaanxi doesn't have any particularly notable sects worth watching, he was sent there alone, assuming a different identity."
"A different identity?"
"A literature teacher for the Gongya Clan. He's currently instructing the grand lady, who was his intermediate target."
"If it's the Gongya Clan, there's also one in the Radiant Demon Squad..."
"You mean Gongya Miryung, the Profound Heroic Fist? I know. She's his cousin. Not that it matters. The Jianghu is vast enough to make you cough up blood, yet surprisingly small. The upper class, even more so."
Ak Surim shook her head lightly before continuing.
"If you win the Shaanxi Bimu Tournament, you'll become the joint champion of the Zhuge Clan's leader and First Fist of the Eun Clan. This information only circulates among a select few local lords. The General Affairs Bureau has investigated through various channels, and it seems quite credible."
"I've heard that the intelligence network of the fortress has fallen behind significantly."
"The Zhuge Clan's leader briefly showed himself in Shaanxi. We don't know what kind of plot he's scheming yet, though."
With a stretch, Ak Surim let out a groan, then smiled with a slight frown.
"This time, I'm going too. It's about time we reminded everyone that the fortress is still standing strong."
"Is there a particular reason?"
"No, no! It's just that there are always some fools who forget the power of the fortress and get overzealous. Anyway, the man we're after is someone who once threatened your life, so there's more than enough justification. Honestly, I wanted to let the Murim Alliance deal with him."
She waved her delicate wrist dismissively.
"Anyway, prepare thoroughly. Shaanxi is quite far from here. Though if you're with me, at least you won't be bored."
"Are just the two of us going?"
"The Blood Preservation Squad's leader, Jin Myungjo, will be joining us too. We never know what kind of variables might arise. It's a rather peculiar place. And the Zhuge Clan's leader is unsettling."
[NOTE - From here on, Jin Myeongjo will be written as Jin Myungjo due to the change of names in the novel.]
"Senior Supreme Demon of Sacred Blood… That's reassuring."
Jung Yeonshin nodded calmly, lost in thought. Zhuge Qing-ya weighed on his mind.
She had come to serve as a guest warrior in the Radiant Demon Squad and had quietly stood by his side from Shaanxi up until now.
Could he bring himself to behead her father?
'She was the one who helped drive out the Zhuge Clan's leader alongside Fan Dragon…'
It was something he needed to discuss.
* * *
A yellow wilderness.
The occasional gusts of wind carrying dust through the air felt desolate.
Winter sunlight spread along with the chill. Bright and unceasing, yet unable to fill the void of the barren land.
Only the distant echoes of swords clashing, carried by wandering martial artists, filled the emptiness.
Clang! Boom!
Amidst the flurry of robes in various colors, dozens of sword lights flashed in all directions.
Within those sharp trajectories, a refined scholar dressed in white was surrounded. It was four against one.
Each time the encirclement seemed on the verge of breaking, arrows flew in, cutting off the scholar's escape routes.
"Kh!"
A man dressed in an elegant silk robe observed them with his hands behind his back. The smooth, orange-colored hem of his garment danced with the shockwaves of the battle.
He stood watching under a canopy, exuding the demeanor of an observer. Around him, a company of twenty elite guards stood at attention.
His attire resembled that of a great merchant. From his sharp face to the golden embroidery on his imperial-yellow robes, nobility radiated from his presence.
"They say warriors of Desolate Fortress are the grim reapers of the martial world. Now I finally see why. That man alone is holding back my swordsmen, despite his mere appearance as a wandering scholar."
The man spoke.
A servant beside him bowed deeply.
"He won't last much longer. If the Trading Hall leader merely moves a single finger, his head will roll instantly."
It was a fair statement.
In these chaotic times, the great merchants wielded both wealth and martial prowess. With a mere gesture, they commanded dozens of blades, all of them deadly.
In this famine-stricken age, countless skilled swordsmen flocked to those who could offer them lavish feasts and extravagant dwellings.
The man spoke again with an indifferent expression.
"This is entertainment. Where else could I witness a hound of the imperial family flaunting its tricks? Desolate Fortress warriors are premium goods. You rarely see them even in the black market's dueling rings."
"My lord, I apologize for interrupting your amusement."
The servant bowed. The merchant curled his lips ever so slightly before speaking again.
"Does anyone here recognize the origin of that man's martial arts?"
To him, this was nothing more than a pastime.
They delighted in capturing esteemed warriors and making a spectacle of them. Among those who wielded transcendental strength, few dared defy the laws of the Great Ming or the authority of Desolate Fortress.
In an era where lawless masters ran rampant, those with great power desired to stand above all.
Two swordsmen stepped forward.
"Given his scholarly appearance, I initially thought it was the White Thunder Sword Technique of the Obeying Heaven Squad… but seeing as his sword presence is rather subdued, that doesn't seem to be the case. His style prioritizes precision over brute strength."
"Isn't his erratic swordplay too unrefined? It could be the Radiant Demon Arts of the Radiant Demon Squad. That technique relies on instinctual combat."
The merchant gave no answer.
With arms crossed, he simply watched the lone fighter struggle against the encircling swordsmen.
The revered warriors of Desolate Fortress had been dragged down into the mouths of lowly men. Like a fish on a butcher's block. That was satisfaction enough.
Boom! Clang!
For those who pursued power, the Divine Sword Order of Desolate Fortress was both a target of admiration and resentment.
In places where martial sects ran rampant, they sought the emperor's sword for protection. But in places like Shaanxi, where no dominant sect held sway, they were despised.
Shaanxi had long been a land where the influence of the state and military was overwhelming. The warriors of Desolate Fortress were revered more than most government officials.
The powerful local warlords and merchant guilds were forced to bow before the mere sight of the Desolate Fortress' warriors.
And yet, a peerless master had reached out in secret. Offering a new order.
The Sleeping Dragon, Zhuge Clan's leader.
The merchant had gladly taken his hand.
And he was not alone.
For a long time, the vast land of Shaanxi had quietly responded. They were prepared.
They had spent lavishly to bribe officials, recruited martial talents of verified backgrounds, and worked meticulously to filter out foreign spies.
And fortune had smiled upon them.
The exhilarating pleasure of toying with a Desolate Fortress' disciple with nothing more than a flick of his wrist was immense. He was truly a strong man.
"Slowly, subdue him slowly. Do not kill him."
The leader's command fell.
Clang!
The sword trajectories of the four-man formation tightened, while arrows, carrying fierce momentum, meticulously controlled the scholar's movements.
Blood splattered from various parts of his skin, tiny droplets staining the white robe red. The scholar's swordplay grew urgent.
He realized their intent was to exhaust both his strength and stamina.
"Judging by your skills, you are undoubtedly a white-rank warrior. But our trading guild's martial force is beyond that of mere petty sects. To roam the martial world in these turbulent times, one must be capable of subduing a single white sword with ease."
The merchant spoke as if reciting a poetic tune.
"If you wish to protect the people, you must first fill our coffers. Your notions are terribly cumbersome. You buy labor from the commoners, yet you slight us, who generously provide them with grain and salt. If martial arts are involved in preserving interests, your first thought is always punishment. My uncle in Henan suffered greatly at your hands."
He murmured to himself. Such words were wasted on a mere white-rank warrior.
"Words suited for a golden age...! You wealth-hoarding parasites who bought your way into the martial world!"
The scholar shouted as he deflected the combined sword strikes and arrows. His battle rhythm was thrown into disarray by his own anger. His face twisted in fury.
The merchant's lips curled.
"How delightful. Now, you're finally acting like a proper plaything. You, who will admit my son into the Zhuge Clan's leader's tutelage."
The battle dragged on until sunset. The sun sank beyond the horizon, casting an ethereal orange glow.
It stretched outward like fine silk, mingling with the cool air. The sounds of clashing swords grew weak, drained of their force.
Then, all of a sudden—
The scholar's sword faltered. It was an infinitesimal moment.
Whoooosh—! BOOM!
Someone landed behind the encirclement. The impact was tremendous, as if they had leaped from a distant ridge.
The ground trembled like an earthquake, rippling with a faint luminescence.
It was as if starlight was pushing away the desolate twilight, so surreal that it barely seemed real.
"What...?"
The merchant and his guards stirred in unrest, unable to react in time.
BOOM! BOOM!
Two dark figures crashed down like meteors beside the first.
With an immense shockwave, cracks tore through the ground, spreading outward, while a thick dust cloud rose into the air.
The silhouettes of a girl holding a long spear and a man exuding a formidable aura emerged from within.
The energy flaring up from them was overwhelming, like a wildfire consuming the heavens.
In that instant, the entire world seemed to be filled with their presence.
"From where do such venerable masters hail?"
The merchant masked his unease with a feigned look of tranquility as he spoke.
The first figure to arrive raised an arm. The aftermath of his landing had yet to settle, his hair still lifted from the impact.
A typhoon-like suction force emanated from his hand, swirling delicately.
At the instant this force of absorption and dispersion clashed like lightning, the swords of the scholar and the four swordsmen shot up from their grips.
The sword light flashed.
Shraaack—!
A sound like fabric being torn along with the bone.
A faint, white line appeared on the necks of the four swordsmen who had formed the encirclement.
Thud!
Four heads dropped heavily to the ground.
Four bloodied swords and one untainted sword hovered mid-air.
The one in the center belonged to the scholar, drifting with an unblemished, noble grace.
The sudden burst of internal energy was overwhelmingly powerful. The headless corpses swayed as though still alive, clinging to the storm of residual force.
Within that storm, the scholar, his black-and-white eyes sharp, parted his lips.
"...I have been stationed for so long that I do not know your esteemed name."
He spoke with reverence, elevating the stranger's name to a title of respect. The long robes alone were proof of the stranger's identity.
Rustle.
The one who had extended his hand let his jet-black hair cascade down.
His strikingly profound aura extended from the edges of his raven hair down to his sharply defined jawline.
An unmistakable presence radiated from him.
Even as he parted his crimson lips to speak, it did not fade.
"White-rank warrior."
The scholar clasped his hands together in salute. His posture was perfectly composed.
"I greet the black-rank of the Desolate Fortress."
"You must be of the Dark Current Squad."
"...Yes, I am."
"I am the Radiant Demon Squad's leader."
He spoke.
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